


Cinder

by Qaile



Series: Disney Genderbent [1]
Category: Cinderella - All Media Types, Disney - All Media Types, Disney - Fandom
Genre: Abuse, Cinderella - Freeform, Disney, Genderbending, M/M, MaleCinderella, Swearing, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-26
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-01-10 00:35:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1152697
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Qaile/pseuds/Qaile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Abused by his sisters, tortured by his mother - nothing ever seems to turn out right for him. Running away was fruitless, as was fighting back. Not to mention how cold nights, rotten food and a kick to the head was all he ever normally received but what exactly happens when he finds a man that tells him he can change that and more? Male!Cinderella/Male!Prince</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

A/N if you do not support this story or the idea of it, please do not read – the last thing I want to do is cause discomfort to an individual and their beliefs.

 

Gasping out, he could feel his lower back seize up in pain and went to clutch it - practically clawing at the folds of his worn shirt before finally resting his hand on top. He didn’t know how long he had been in this position for; it could have been anywhere from five minutes to an hour but it felt like an eternity. His knees ached against the cold stone and having his body bent forward as he crawled around the floor to clean didn’t do much to help. He should have just mopped and left it at that. He could have watched those women flounder and fall on the soaked floor and enjoy every minute of it.

Chuckling, he blew a stray blond locket of hair out of his eyes and wished that his kerchief did a better job of holding it back. Realistically, he wished that it did a better job entirely. Instead golden sparks of hair jutted out from the bottom and his bangs hung loosely just over his brow. He could feel the lock begin to fall once more and decided to not even bother to blow it back. He just watched in a melancholy manner as it limply hung in front of his face.

Straightening up, he threw the rag into the bucket of water and arched his back. Sliding his hands down his sides, he heard various cracks and pops emit from himself. Oh, how he wished he had the courage to just get up and run from this god forsaken place. He knew he would be dead within weeks if not days. There was no food, no place to run and, ultimately, no place to hide.

“Heya, Cin.” Was his only warning before he felt a cool splash of water whip his leg. His bucket clashed to the ground with an awful sound and he could only groan as the water once again soaked the entire area around him.

“Heya, Ann.” Was his strained reply as he stared at the pair of high heels next to him, her foot still near where she had whacked the bucket. He didn’t have to look up to know she was smirking at him and, frankly, he didn’t have the desire to. Just hearing her voice was enough to send jolts of frustration and distain down his spine.

Cin slumped down, feeling the cool water seep through his pants even more and balled his hands into fists until he could almost feel his nails draw blood in his palms.

“How are you doing this evening?” He gritted out, shivers jolting his body every now and then yet he continued to look vacuously in front of himself.

“Just peachy, what say you?” She talked in the same tone as she practiced with her sister and that only made him feel bitterer about the situation. 

“Fine.” Came his best retort, which sounded weak to even himself. He started to nervously play with his hands, feeling the smooth calluses from months’ work and let out a rather large sigh.

“My dresses?” She inquired after a thoughtful silence, cocking her head to the side and raising a brow. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, replying with a pseudo-courteous nod.

“They will be done soon,” He leaned forward to tilt his bucket to its upright position before grabbing the rag that had fallen out, “I assure you.”

“And my vanity, when might I expect it? Surely you must be close to having it fixed by now. I did give you the entire bloody week.” There was a quip in her brazen tone.

“That as well, will be restored soon. I have been increasingly busy, you must understand-”

“Slacking. You have been nothing but lazy for the past month. You should really count your blessings you cheap good for nothing and stop complaining about our meager expectations of you. Be grateful we haven't thrown your pathetic self out yet, where you would die a lonely whore on the streets no doubt. ”

He attempted to say something, anything, but instead he was met with the dryness of his throat and a betraying silence. Licking his lips, he leaned forward to return to his work and started to squeeze the rag’s moisture back into the bucket. He began to wipe up the mess that had resulted; thankful the bucket was originally only a quarter ways full. 

Cin heard the familiar sound of her heels hitting the floor and breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing the worst was over. He looked back over to the window and felt the night’s soft breeze careened in, lifting up his kerchief slightly before settling back down. 

By the time he had finally finished his days’ work, it was well into the night and his knees were aching from being hunched over for so long. Stumbling, he found his way outside, the air thick in lungs and burning his eyes in its utter briskness, as it had and would continue to do every night of his life. The thought of it made him upset, more so than he expected. He looked at the rolling fields next to him, seeing the soft hills bathed in moonlight made him want to run. Just blindly, not even wanting to think about it or caring. Letting out another grand sigh, he reluctantly averted his gaze and continued to move on, practically dragging his feet behind him. 

Once he was laying down he on the soft hay in the stable, a sob had quietly choked out from him. He was done thinking, tired of wearing his mind raw with thoughts of his futile life. Thinking for himself had gotten him nothing but lashes to the back and steady loneliness. He didn’t want any of it, but it was all he had. The best he had. Letting his mind wander, he conjured castles and heroes. He fell asleep, his last thoughts of ball gowns and dancing and the most painfully fictional prince charming that he could imagine. 


	2. Chapter 2

He awoke at the brink of dawn, the brisk air pungent. The cool temperature nipped at his nose and ears, his fingers bending lazily from being frozen overnight.The sun pinched at his eyelids, impatiently demanding him to rouse. Reluctantly he obeyed, feeling his body protest with every movement he forced upon it. The rest of his family wouldn't be up for at least two hours, yet he knew that if he didn't get up now somehow they would know about him sleeping in. 

Feeling hollow, he walked towards the all too familiar house, the distant sound of a neighbor singing softly floated from over the hills, making Cin feel as if he was still dreaming. He was annoyed in the moment, though he knew he shouldn't be. They worked hard and deserved their happiness. Still, he couldn't help but feel like he did too. It wasn’t long until the bell tower also started to chime in, signifying that the day has begun.Taking in a deep breath, he clutched and flexed his hands smoothly in a sorry attempt to ignore the sound. 

Cin soon found himself in the kitchen, mindlessly cleaning once again at the ever-growing mountain of dishes. Honestly, how much could three women eat? He would have to add a couple inches onto the dresses before giving them back to Anastasia. His lips twitched into a half smile at the thought and he continued to wash the never ending supply of plates. His brogues continued to scuffle along the ground as he worked, his apron rubbing against the damp counter with every reach he took. The sun began to shine in on him from the window above the sink, and his skin silently thanked it.

He caught sight of his reflection in the dishwater as he worked. The face staring back made him halt. He made a small 'tsk' at the unruly curling his hair had taken to lately. Dark circles hung under his eyes, making him look not only on edge but something else he could not instantly place. He rubbed his hands along down his face and after a moment of quiet disappointment he knew. The word was quietly murmured to himself - tired. 

Upon finishing the dishes, he heard a loud crash. He cringed, and began to fizz with rancor. The house cat, who was the equivalent of Satan, jumped off the counter in a none too graceful leap. Vexed with all the ire of a storm, Cin clenched his jaw tight and surveyed the gamut of damage there splayed in front of his eyes. Porcelain shards belonging to one of the just cleaned dishes laid about his feet, scattered like a jigsaw puzzle that would never be put back together again. 

“Shit.” He knew he would be irrefutably blamed and the poor figure let out a loud agitated puff of air. He gripped onto the counter top until his knuckles turned white, body hunched over in a shaking mess. As if on cue the staccato sound of footsteps thumped down the stairs and Cin didn’t even bother to look up from his curled position. Hair now dangling in front of his eyes.

 

“Cin!” the appalled voice was to be expected. Without letting his grip go from the counter, Cin looked up to see his sister Drizella looking livid. His mother, who stood on the stairs behind, looked even less amused. Almost placid he might have said. She looked from the mess to him and they locked eyes. A coy smile played at her lips. 

“How gauche.” she murmured in such a bemused tone that it debased him. Drizella proceeded to go on a tangent about his petulant behavior. He ignored her, not daring to look away from his mother. Growing impatient, Drizella had walked up to him and slapped him hard across the face, making his neck snap towards the side. It was an all too familiar feeling that he may have once yelped over but now it was the same as a handshake. A handshake that he got greeted with all too often. Cin slowly turned his head back, lifting his chin and setting his jaw with paper-thin pride. He was aware they saw through it; they had broken him plenty of times before. Yet he remained indignant. 

Lady Tremaine stepped down the stairs with an eerie calm and walked over towards the smashed plate, lifting the skirt of her dress slightly. She kicked a piece gently towards Cin which nudged his shoe in return. 

“Clean this up.” She looked down her nose at him, her calm tone enough to raze him. It unnerved him how she spoke as if the point was trite already. She had always been that way; unpredictable. Drizella widened her eyes in anger at him, jerking her body forward like she was about to hit him again and cackled when she saw him flinch. She then stomped away and outside the house, still grinning all the while doing so.

Lady Tremaine followed her daughter, lightly gripping onto the door frame as she stepped outside. The familiar sound of the door slamming echoed throughout the household and Cin was once again alone. 

“Aside from you.” He glared at the fatass cat sitting on its large behind looking oh so satisfied  
“Well? What say you?” He demanded and it purred back almost smugly. Breathing a locket of hair out of his eyes, Cin grabbed the broom from the closet and started to sweep the once-was plate. The screech it made across the floor forced his eye to twitch but he continued until it was in a small neat pile. He cleaned up the rest but flinched when he felt something prick his finger. Looking at the tip of his index, Cin could see a little bead of red starting to form and pinched around it, drawing more of the liquid out. Feeling defeated, he grabbed a bandage and wrapped it around the wound.

He then finished off the cleaning with a wet cloth. Just as he was about to grab a basket of laundry to go start on, he heard a tap on the window. He looked to see the postman, a thin faced figure, smiling in at him. Cin smiled back and gave a small wave. They hadn't had a proper mailbox in years as theirs had been rusted shut for as long as Cin could remember. The postman was kind enough to bring it to the front and knock if he saw Cin inside and if he didn't the postman would simply slide it underneath the door . He always assured him that he didn't mind it.  
The servant brushed off his apron and went towards the entrance where he met the man in his usual outfit, sporting a smile that seemed to never fade. 

“Good morning!” The postman drawled out, dipping his head down in a slight bow as he handed the blonde the mail. Cin smiled, the familiar scent of leather and parchment filled the air and he returned the greeting. He wished that he could stay at times; he’s the only man who’s ever shown him kindness but understood that he had work to do. Instead, Cin watched the man merrily jog away and he let out a sigh.

Shifting through the papers, a letter among them caught his eye; his name. Bringing it inside, he pulled out the envelope and turned it over. The royal emblem, in deep crimson, was pressed upon it. He pondered opening it and weighed whether it was worth the beating he was sure to receive. Curiosity, as it often did, got the best of him and he tore into it deciding that he was going to be beaten for the plate anyhow. The letter within had succinct details but a few words stuck out to him; ball, castle, and above all — prince. An event for blue collars, farmers, nobles, peasants and the poor alike.

Without meaning to, he imagined it. Everyone dressed so sumptuously, the music playing through the opulent castle ballroom, the talking and dancing. Without meaning to, he imagined himself there. An excitement burned so hot inside of him it almost hurt. Regaining control of his thoughts, Cin reminded himself that no, he wouldn't be among them. The realization felt like a shot to his gut and his body went cold. The servant’s face crumpled as he shoved the letter back into its envelope petulantly. His name that had been inscribed on the letter haunted him and he abandoned the mail, snatching up his laundry basket off from the ground. The sun shining on him felt less warm and more like a spotlight in some Colosseum showing his life as a comedy. He felt eyes on him. Looking about, there was no one save the cat, who lazed in the same spot.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N  
> Character design is somewhat based off of this picture by the amazing artist: Miyuli  
> https://31.media.tumblr.com/da671f4dee40919b973620b2a8a30b6f/tumblr_mzvfkjHgyx1qggsavo1_500.jpg  
> Just testing this out to see if anyone may support this  
> Haha..haa…*sweat drop* - Anyways, I am pretty sure this has been done before and 1000x times better. I’ve seen a lot of male!cinderella and female!prince but none that are like…this. (There probably is one out there) this is simply the prologue and it may be continued. Thank you so much for reading and check out my profile for more information!


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